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A MILITARY DRAMA 

WITH ACCOMPANYING TABLEAUX. 

Bit Col. J±. RrCALHOTJir, 

Commander Dep't of Penn'a, G. A. R. 




PITTSBURGH: 
A. A. ArausoH t t Sons, Book and Job Printers, C7 and 69 Fifth Avenue. 

1870. 






Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1870, 

By Col. A. R. CALHOUN, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at WashingU n. 



NOTICE. 

This Play has been duly copyrighted; according to Act of Con- 
gress regulating the same. The production of this play by any 
person or persons, without the consent of the author and the man- 
agement, will be prosecuted to the full extent of law. 

A. R. CALHOUN, Author, 
WILL F. HOOD, Manager. 



CAST. 

Mr. Ludlow -Village Banker 

Louis Ludlow ...Afterward Color Bearer 

Jackson Ludlow « Color Guard 

Farmer Johnson. 

Jack Johnson Uterward Color Guard 

Sam Roberts " u a 

Jm Hansom .< u 

Squire Williams School Trustee 

Mr. Gray Citizen 

Post Master. 

Alfred Thornton Afterward Capt. C. S. A. 

Tom Flynn Irishman 

Bob Mason Tennesseean. afterward Union Scout 

Long George Tennesseean 

Peter Higgly Dutchman 

Mountaineer. 

Father Allen Refugee 

Refugee. 

Lieut, of Guerillas. 

Captain C. S. A. 

Tonby Servant to Captain Thornton 

Prisoner. 
Sergeant U. S. A. 
News Boy. 

LADY CHARACTERS. 

Lucy Johnson, Alice Gray, 

Jerusha Johnson, Susan Maria Hansom, 

Abbie Smith, Goddess of Liberty. 

Ladies for Tableaux. Officers and Soldiers, Mountaineers, Refu- 
gees, Prisoners, Citizens, &c. 



COSTUME. 



Mr. Ludlow. — 1st, Geutlernan dress suit. 2d, Change at will. 
Louis Ludlow.— 1st, Citizen's dress. 2d, Serg't U. S. Army, 3d, 

Capt. U. S. Army. 
Jackson Ludlow. — 1st, Citizen's dress. 2d, Private U. S. Army. 
Farmer John? on. — 1st, Plain suit. 2d, Change at will. 
Jack Johnson. — 1st, Citizen's dress. 2d, Private IT. S. Army. 
Sam Roberts. — 1st, Plain suit. 2d, Private U. S. Army. 
Squire Williams.— 1st, Plain Citizen's dress. 2d, Change at will. 
Mr. Gray. — 1st, Xeat home suit. 2d, Change at will. 
Alfred Thornton. — 1st, Stylish street dress. 2d, Capt, C. S. A. 
Tom Flynn.— 1st, Shabby suit. 2d, Ragged uniform C. S. A. 3d, 

Plain Citizen's suit. 
Bob Mason. — 1st, Mountain dress. 2d, Rngged. 3d, Private U. S 

A. 4th, Plain old suit. 
Long George. — Mountain hunters costume. 
Peter Higgly. — Plain Citizen's dress. 
Father Allen. — Ragged dress. 

Toney. — 1st, Plain grey dress. 2d, Xeat Citizen's suit. 
Lucy Johnson. — 1st, Xeat home suit. 2d, Street dress. 3d, Plain 

black. 4th, Change at will. 
Jerusha Johnson. — 1st, Plain home suit. 2d, Street dress. 3d 

Change at will. 
Abbie Smith. — 1st, Xeat servant's suit. 2d, Street dress. 3d 

Change at will. 
Alice Gray. — 1st, Xeat home suit. 2d, Walking suit. 
Susan Marie Hansom. — 1st, Plain suit. 2d, Change at will. 



THE COLOR GUARD. 



_A.C T I. 
SCENE FIRST. 



Village street and post office. Squire Williams, Farmer Johnson and 
Citizens discovered waiting for the mail. Lively music. 

Squire W. — Now let me say farmer Johnson, I don't think we're 
agoing to have any war. (Business.) My opinion is this, I'm a 
school trustee, and ought to know. The politicians and provision 
men have formed a combination to run up prices, so they've started 
this story about war. Now 111 bet my best heifer I'm right. 

Farmer J. — Well I know you'r pretty long headed squire, but I 
differ for once with you. There's alius fire whar there's smoke. 
My Jack was over to Portsmouth yesterday, and he hurd it read out 
of a paper that the southern people had fired on the flag, some were's 
down south, and that Lincoln, him as you fellohs 'lected, had called 
for a whole lot of men. I did'nt vote for Lincoln, but by the fernal, 
I'll stand by the Union, and so will my boy. He aint old enough to 
vote, but he dared that sneak Alf Thornton to fight not long go, 
and I jest reckon he can lick any man of his years south of the 
Ohio. Them's my principles. 

Squire IF. — Now, Mr. Johnson, don't get excited. I stick to my 
opinion, and if there's to be war, 111 send in Jim Hansom, my son- 
in-law, if it makes Susan Maria a widder. But see the mail has 
just come in, let us see the Post master and borrow a paper. 

Post Master at window. — Thunder and greased lightning, friends. 
we are in for it. (Drops beich.) 

[Enter Tom Flynn, 1st L.] 
Tom F. — Musha, listen to that fellow, what does he mane we're in 
for? If its a fight Tom Flynn's yer boy. I'll fight any man in the 
place for one dollar and fifty cents Gorra, but I'd make it a thou- 
sand if I had the money. 
1* 



[Enter Mr. Ludlow, 1st L.] 

Mr L. — Hello, Tom ! Drunk again, are you ? 

Tom F. — Dhrunk! Well, Mr. Ludlow, a man of your sinse to 
call me dhrunk; shure Tom's never drunk while he has a cint in 
his pocket, hut barrin' yersel. Mr. Ludlow, gorra but I can whip 
any man in the pi tee. (Yelh.) 

Mr. L. — [to Postmaster). You seem excited, Mr. McDonald. Any- 
thing for me to-day? 

Postmaster. — Ob, Lud ! Mr. Ludlow! We are ruined. The Union 
busted ; the flag insulted, an i ihe Devil to pay. Here, you have a 
big mail, one letter from the South. Reckon its from your brother, 
though I only read the post mark. Atlanta, Georgia. 

(Hands Mr. L. a bundle, Mr. L. glances hurriedly at a paper.) 

Squire W. — I don't get any papers, but if you'd loan me that 
what you'r reading, Mr. Ludlow, I'd be very much obliged. 
Mr. L. — Certainly, Squire. 

(Hands paper, open* letter and reads.) 

Squire W. — Friend Johnson, I back down, I cave, I obsquatulate, 
it ain't the politicians and provision men. By the livin' thunder, 
it's the politicians alone. War. War. War. The papers covered 
with it. I know'd it was cornin'. Didn't I alius say we'd have 
war. I'll bet my best heifer my Susan Maria is goin' to be a wid- 
der. 

Farmer J. — You'r a heavy old prophet, Squire. You just take 
the shine out of Joe Young an' all the Mormons. Let me see the 
paper. ( 7 nd comments). Lincoln has called for 

seventy-live thousand men. Lord, what a big pile. The States 
are to be divided. Not by the 'Tarnel, while me and my boy Jack's 
livin'. See here, Squire! Why our Guvener calls for 

men. That's my stile. That's the way to show Ohio may vote as 
she choses ; but by the 'Tarnel, Ohio stands by the Union. 

Tom F. — To the Devil wid the Guvener. If yees want any fightin' 
done, jist sind for Tom Flynn. By Gorra the Flynn's were always 
in for a fight. 

[Ehtkb Jack Johnson, 2nd B., and lays hand on* shoulder of 

Tom F.] 

Jack J. — Well. Tom, what are you blowing about; do you want 
to fight, eh? 

Tom F. — Fight ! Is it me want to fight Mr. Jack ? Arrah, show 
me the man that says bj, and 1 11 put a mug on him his own darling 
mother wouldn't know. Not me, Mr. Jack. Com?, take a dhrink : 



one dollar and fifty cents to do it on. Gorra but we'll have a dap 
of it. Come, Jack, agrab, wud me, yer bist friend, Tom Flynn. 

[Tries to pullJack J. away.') 
Jack J. — Not now, Tom. The old man looks as if he wanted me. 

( Walks aside with Farmer J.) 

[Enter 2d R., Jackson Ludlow.] 

Jackson L. — Why father, are you sick? I never taw you looking 
so pale and excited. Come, let me take you home. 

Mr. L. — No, my son, I am not unwell. But the news that comes 
to us to-day is most alarming. The South is in for war. Troops 
are called out by the Union, and you, my boy, must go. and Louis 
too. 

Jackson L. — I am glad, father, you feel so, for I made up mind tc 
enter the army yesterday, when Jack Johnson and I were in Ports- 
mouth. But what is that letter you cling to so. 

Mr. Ij. — It is from your Uncle Martin and your brother Thomas, 
who still remains with him. Let me read it. {All gather round). 

[Enter 2d R. Alf. Thornton. 

Mr. L.— (Reads). Atlanta, Ga., April 18th, 1801. 

My Dear Brother. By the time this reaches you you will have 
heard that the youth has determined to sever a Union in which it 
can have no protection, and build up a Confederacy where there 
will be the most ample protection to all men in the stations which 
God called them to fill. We have struck the first blow at Charles- 
ton, and above the stars and stripes now floats the flag of the South. 
We hope to leave in peace, though amply prepared for war. We 
have plenty of friends North, and knowing your spirit of justice, I 
think I may count you among them. You will be pleased to learn 
that Thomas your son has enrolled his name in the Georgia State 
Guards. He sends love to all, and I with him hope to hear from 
you before the postal communications between the separate nations 
cease, which I presume will be a temporary necessity of Secession. 
Faithfully your brother, 

MARTIN LUDLOW. 

Squire W. — Jest as I said, them southern fellows is for war. But 
we'll give 'em Hail Columbia if Susan Maria lets her husband go. 
Him as is my son-in-law. 

Jackson L. — Father, this is terrible. Poor Tom, he has been led 
blindly into this. But with your consent, I will fight for tbe Union, . 
though every man with a drop of our blood in his veins opposes us. 

Mr. L. — God bless you, my boy, I feel as you do. 

Farmer J. — Here's my Jack. I'm an ole Democrat, one of them. 



8 

sis stands by the country, an' I'll send him in with your boys, Mr- 
Ludlow, and I'll give up my farm if Uncle Sam wants it, an' more, 
this ole arm can hold a rifle, and my eye aint too dim to guide a 
bullet yet if need be. 

Alfred T. — See here, friends, my opinion is, you are all too one- 
sided. Across the Ohio river are our friends and relatives. North 
of us is a land of mean skin-flints. I was born North but raised 
South. 

Jack J. — You mean you gambled South. 

Tom F. — Let the gintlemin talk, the Flynns were always for let- 
tin' a man talk. 

Alf. T. — I know my own business. This is a free country and I 
am not afraid to say if there is to be war, I will draw my sword for 
the South. 

Farmer J. — I knew you were a villian from the day you first came 
to see my daughter, and if the people felt as I do they would hang 
you on the spot. 

All shout — Hang him. Hang the Rebel. {Crowd seizes Alf. T. 3 
while one brings rope). 

[Enter Louis Ludlow, 2d R.] 

Louis L.— Stand back here. This scene will do for the South, 
but not for the law-abiding North. Jack and you, brother, help 
me. {Releases Alf T.) A man is ever at liberty to express his sen- 
timents here without fear, no matter how much we despise him. 
Here, sir, I will escort you from the crowd, and it is with the hope 
that I may meet you some day better prepared to defend yourself. 

Scene Closes. 



SCENE SECOND. 

Parlor in Farmer Johnson's House. 

[Enter 1st R., Jerusha Johnson and Abbey Smith.] 

Jerusha J. — Abbey Smith, you talk like a woman of the world- 
I am astonished at a girl of your good sense ; but as Mr. Goodman,, 
our dear preacher, says, " vanity of vanities, all is vanity." 

Abbey S. — {twisting her apron). Well, it aint for a hired help like- 
me to be vanity, but I guess help kin feel sorry when their fellers 
leave, just like others. I know Sam Roberts has alius been soft on 
me, an' I've been soft on him ; you'd be soft on him, too, Miss Gu- 
rusha, if you was me. Sam is the best felloh 



9 

Jerusha J. — There, there, Abbey Smith, not another word, you 
make me blush about your fellows. The day will come, when, as 
Mr. Goodman says, you will see " all is vanity/' The world is fear- 
fully wicked. Oh ! how it has changed since I was young — I mean 
since I wa? a child. I am young still, Mr. Goodman says — 

Abbey S. — Yes mum. 

Jerusha J. — My nephew, John Johnson, has determined to fight. 
He is fooltshly in love with Alice Gray, but as Mr. Goodman says, 
; ' 'tis vanity.'' Now, John is going to war. John has drawn his 
sword, why can't Sam Roberts draw his sword. 

Abbey S. — I don't know, mum, but Sam has no sword except a 
hammer. Sam's a blacksmith. 

Jerusha J. — Abbey, you provoke me. I speak in figures. 

Abbey S. — Yes mum, that's the way Sam and me dance cortillons. 

Jerusha J. — The Government will give him a sword. There are 
too many men in the world, let them kill each other off. except 
John and Mr. Goodman. 

Abbey S. — Yes mum, there are too many men except Sam. 

[Enter Lucy Johnson, 1st R.] 

Ijucy J. — Well, aunt, has Abbey been telling you that Sam Rob- 
erts is going to leave her? 

Jerusha J. — Yes, my child, but as Mr. Goodman Bays, -all is van- 
ity." 

Lucy J. — I have been giving Solomon credit for tint refreshing 
sentiment, aunt. But if you will pardon me, I should like to have 
the parlor to myself for a few moments. I am informed a visitor 
in the hall desires to sec me alone for a moment. 

[Exit Abbey S., 1*t L. Jerusha J. crossing to R.] 

Jerusha J. — Some vile man. that my niece would renounce 
the world, as Mr. Goodman says. [Exit 1st R.] 

Alt. T. — [Enter 1st L.] Ah ! Miss Lucy you are cruel to keep 
me waiting so long. But I am afraid by seeing you — 

Lucy J. — Mr. Thornton will confer v favor by transacting his 
business with me as soon as possible. I have another engagement. 
f Alf. T. — I can imagine that engagement, Miss Lucy. I hope to 
sever it some day. I came to say that to-night I start south to be 
absent, Heaven only knows how long. I could not leave without 
coming to say farewell and to assure you of my love. 

Lucy J. — Sir, I told you before this subject was offensive to me, 
why will you persist. 

Alf. T. —Miss Lucy, let the depth of my devotion be my only ex- 
cuse. I know I have beea bad in many thing?, but pure in this. 



10 

my worship of you. I go to fight in what I deem right, and ere I 
leave tell me yon do not hate me, and that in hours of peril you 
will pray at lease for my safety. 

Lucy J. — I pray for your safety ! I, whose brother and friends 
are going to fight against you, pray for your safety! Why Alfred 
Thornton, this is the very sublimity of impudence and cool effron- 
tery. No, sir, while I shall invoke Heaven to bring peace to my 
country, I shall pray that justice be meted out to the bad men who 
have brought sorrow to my home aud my heart. Leave me, Mr. 
Thornton, this subject is even more objectionable than that of your 
love. 

Alf. T. — Miss Lucy, listen to mo. I am not so bad that the 
slightest word you could utter would not make me a good man. I 
am a Southern man in feeling, but a yes from your lips would lead 
me to fight in any cause. The faintest hope of your love would 
make me respond to-morrow to Lincoln's call. If you would save 
me, Miss Johnson, Miss Lucy, do not cast me off without a hearing. 

Lucy J. — Now, sir, I despise you. Your words confirm my worst 
fears of your utter want of principle. I can respect the Southern 
people who honestly act out their errors, but a man whose sword 
hangs on a woman's word when great principles are at stake, 
should not be trusted even by his friends. 

Alf, T. — You are as cruel as you are beautiful. I have been a 
wanderer in the world without relatives or love till I met you. Is 
it not worth your while to try my salvation? Why crush me still 
lower, when you can raise me to your own level ! 

Lucy J. — I would save you, Mr. Thornton. 1 would do much to' 
make you a good, true man. If you only change now I can give 
you the love of a sister. 

Alf. T. — No more than a sister's love ? 

Lucy J. — No more than a sister's love is mine to give. 

Alf. T. — Then the die is cast, and while blood flows through this 
right strong arm it will hold a sword against those you love, and 
while my heart beats its every throb will be hatred and death to 
Louis Ludlow. [Exit 1st L] 

Lucy J. — Yes, death to the man who saved your life. (Solus.) 
Oh ! My Father above, that this fearful dream of death would pass 
away. One short month ago and who so happy as I ! Home, bro- 
ther and Louis ! Now all seems dark as that ttme far away back 
when mother died. Oh, Louis, you must go, though it breaks my 
heart, ray brave, noble Louis ! 

Abbey S.— [Enter 1st L.] Oh, Miss Lucy, you look so pale. I 
feel very pale too on account of Sam, though your aunt Gurusha 
■says ' 'tis vanity.' Your vanity is at the door, Miss Lucy, Mr. Louis 



11 

Ludlow. He looks awful riled. Gues3 he met that other vanity 
Thornton, down the road. 

Lucy J. — Tell Mr. Ludlow to come in, Abbey. 

[Exit Abbey S., 1st L.] [Enter Louis L., 1st L.] 

Lucy J. — 0, Louis ! Welcome ! Welcome ! I have wanted you 
so much. 

Louis L.— Lucy, why are you so excited? Has that man Thorn- 
ton been here ? Come, tell me all about it. 

Lucy J. — jes, Louis, he has been talking again. I know I 
ought not to have seen him. But I hoped I might be able to make 
him see the right. 

Louis L. — You are the kindest girl in the world, and the best, but 
I am afraid, Lucy, you undertook too large a job in making Thorn- 
ton a good man. lie would have been in his grave to-day but for 
me ; yet, when I met him in the road as he left here, he passed me 
with a scowl and low mutterings of revenge. 

Lucy J. — Promise me, Louis, you will not court a difficulty with 
him. 

Louis L. — But if I meet him in arms against me, Lucy — 

Lucy J. — Well, then, Louis, 1 would wound him in the arm so 
that he could not fight. 

Louis L — [laughing.) Would it not be better to wound him so 
that he could not run. 

Lucy J. — Well, as you say, Louis, but please don't kill any one. 
I do so hope no body will be killed in this fearful war. 

Louis L. — (laughing.) It would certainly be a fearful war if there 
were no one killed. But, my darling, (taking her hand) if all the 
soldiers were like you, we would meet on the field, drop our arms 
and shake hands as we do and be friends, eh ! 

Lucy J. — Yes, indeed, Louis'; but I want to tell you we have 
been making a beautiful flag. Alice Gray and myself bought the 
material. To-morrow, before you leave, we are going to present it 
to you. Wont you guard it for my sake? 

Louis L. — For your sake ! You selfish little mortal ! I will 
guard it for the sake of the Union, and cherish that particular flag 
for my darling, and our own little Union — that is to be. But I 
must leave, we are enrolling men in the village and I must get 
back. Now good-by till to-morrow. 

Lucy J. — Good-by, my own brave Louis. [Exit.] 



/ 



12 

SCENE THIRD, 

Wood or Landscape. Music. Enter Troops, 1st L. Stag* 
March or Drill. Enter R II. Young Ladies with Flag, Vil- 
lagers following. 

Officer. — (Commands,) Attention! Color-guard, to the front, 
march. 

[Color Bearer — Louis Ludlow ; Color Guards— Jackson Ludlow, 
Jack Johnson, Sam Roberts and Jim Hansom.] 

Speech by Lucy J. — My friends, the flag which I hold in my hand 
is the emblem of our whole nation. Its glorious field of blue repre- 
sents not only our own beloved Ohio, but every State in the North 
now arming for the defense, and every State in the South arrayed 
against us in Rebellion. This flag was wrought by your sisters' 
hands, is covered with our tears of sorrow at this parting, and hal- 
lowed by our prayers for its Safety and your return. I need not 
tell you to guard it bravely, for I am convinced the brave men be- 
fore me will protect its folds. You will return it in safety, and I 
pray God, that with it may come the brave color-guard to whom I 
intrust it. In the dark hours of battle look up to the God of jus- 
tice. Look around on the land of our fathers and remember the 
sisters who bow for you in prayer. 

Louis L. — Miss Johnson, permit me in behalf of my comrades, to 
thank you and the thoughtful ladies who co-operated with you in 
procuring this flag. We accept it with a full appreciation of the 
trust imposed through you by the nation. We are about to march 
for the scene of war, and we have that dread of death incident to 
all men who risk life for principle. One by one of the color-guard 
now standing before you may drop off by bullet or disease, but this 
glorious banner will fall to hands as brave. W T hile God gives us 
strength to guard it, in the summers march, the winter's bivouac 
and the battle's fearful storm, we will ever keep it pointed to that 
Heaven from which our greatest protection must come. With you, 
we pray that all may return in safety, bringing back the colors 
without a stain, and the news of a land preserved through our 
valor and firm devotion. 

SONG. Air— Bruce's Address. 

Girls — Guard the flag, brothers brave, 
From every traitor hand, 
With your swords dig the grave 

For the foes of our land. 
Think, in the battle's hour, 
Of what our fingers wrought, 



13 

Fla£ of the Union's power, 
For which our forefathers fought. 

Guard the flag ! Guard the flag — 
Flag of the brave and free, 

Till it floats from every crag, 
From the lakes down to the sea. 

Soldiers. — For this our swords we draw, 

For this our lives we'll give ; 
Till all wrong bows down to law. 

That liberty may live. 
What if though this guard may die, 

What if thousand- in ij be slain. 
Still aloft this flag will fly 

Triumphant o'er the main. 
We will guard the flag, 

Flag of the brave and ff 
Till it floats o'er ev 

From the lakes down to the 

Chorus. 

Girls. —Guard the Hag ! Guard the flag! 

Soldiers. — We will guard this honored Hag! 
Flag of the brave and fi 
Till it floats from every crag 
From the lakes down to the sea. 

Color guard march back on } whil< oyiar commands attention. 

Carry arms. Present artns. Band Salute. ~ Carry arms. Right face. 
Port arms. Break ranks. March. 

Mr. L.—(To Louis Z.)— Well, my boy, you have something to fight 
for; may God bless you aud bring you back in safety. ° But go, 
Lucy is watching you. I must see Jackson and all the boys. 

Louis Lj. — A short time, dear father, and I hope to return, bring- 
ing you the good news of a restored land. (Joins Lucy J.) Well, 
Lucy, that was a beautiful speech of yours, and a beautiful flag 
accompanied it. 

Lucy J— Certainly a beautiful flag, Louis, but do be careful for 
my sake. Don't rush into danger unless there is a necessity, will 
you ? Please say you won't. 

Louis L. — Rush into unnecessary danger. Why, you dear soul, I 
have ycu to live for. Why should I expose myself. Now tell me 
you will write very long gossipy letters, all ah Jut the village; and 
you can tell me if Abbey Smith here gets auother beaux instead of 
Sam. 



14 

Abbey S. — No, thank you, Mr. Ludlow, I am satisfied with my 
vanity. Miss Gurusha is right, all the world is vanity to me. Isn't 
it, Sam? 

Sam R — Your head is level there, 4bbey. Here is something I 
want you to keep for my sake. {Hands red handkerchief.) 

Abbey S. — I'll wear this night and day, even if Miss Guru3ba does 
call it vanity. 

(Assembly is given.) 

Louis L — The bugle sound : gooi-by my own own one. 

Lucy J. — Good-by, Louis. 

Farewell. Soldiers shake, hands with villagers. Battalion forms. 
Officer commands attention. Present arms. Carry arms. Bata-llion, right 
face. Music — <: Girl I left behind me." Troops file off stage. Busi- 
ness. Villagers R. F. Soldiers m railroad ear. with colors and guard 
<on platform. 

Table\ux — Thi RiaiKG or the North. 

[Curtain.] 



15 



-A.CT II. 

SCENE FIRST. 

A Country Tavbhh in thb Mountains op Tennes3e». Alfred 
Thornton, Tom Flysn, Bob Mason, Long George, Pktkr Higgly 
and Mountain men discovered. {Lively Music.) 

Alf. T. — No, friends, we hove nothing to hope for from the Yan- 
kees of any party. Democrat3 and Republicans are equal ia their 
hate and opposition. 

Bob M. — See here, stranger, we uns har in the mountains aint 
much yer see on book larnin. But we kin read the trees and tell 
whin Spring's a learin, or the winter a comin on. We uns kin look 
at the sky an' tell if tbar's a goin' to be a storm, and we kin meas- 
ure a man an' tell just how full he is of fight. 

Alf. T. — I don't understand you, sir. You do not wish to insult 
me by saying I will not light. 

Bob M. — Sartin not, stranger. But we uns har in the mountains 
knows as how noise is harmless, and men as brag9 aint things to be 
skeered of. 

Alf. TV-It was not my intention ny body, for I presume 

1 am among friends. 

Bob M. — Stranger, I've been presuming I'd be rich each yar since 
I were a boy. and dogcned if I aint wan tin' of money now as a ben 
is of horns. Why, you might as well try to build a pig pea out of 
cold mush as to do anytbin' by presumin'. 

Tom F. — Well, it's me sel' that's presnmin' this blessed ininit that 
this is the worst crowd I ever sit eyes on. Here we are, me sel' and 
Mr. Thornton, after thraveliin' for tin days ia the mountains of 
Kintucky ; lavin the Yankees behind us an' our comfortable homes, 
an' all to fight for yese. And now whin we gits into Tinnissee, 
shure yer not dacent enough to say Tom Flynn have jcr mouth on 
ye. JS'ow, before we have any more talking my sentiments are, let 
us have about three inches of unwatered hospitality, an' thin I'll 
show yes how the Flynns kin talk wud their machinery in ordLer. 

Long G. — Yes, stranger, lets all licker up. Wc'uns forgot that 
ye'r might want suthio. Heah, I'll stan treat this time. 

[Business.] 

Mou?itainecr.—'SQYs i stranger, jest let we'nns har that story of 
yourn, an all about them dam'd Yankees. 



16 

Alf T. — I lived for some time past peacefully ou the Ohio river, 
within sight of the Sunnv South. I would h;ive remained there all 
roy life, had not the Soutn been wronged ; had not you men been 
deprived of your rights ; had not your liberties been assailed and 
your homes threatened. Friends when I think of the outrage I 
was subjected to in leaving the North to join you, it quite unman* 
me. 

Tom F. — Mr. Thornton, Mr. Thornton, share ye put too little 
whiskey in that last glass of water ye tuk. Now before lettin yer 
feelings get the bether of ye, my advice is to return this gintleman's 
threat, and thin yes km go on would a clear conscience, knowiiP 
yer not in debt. 

Alf T. — Ah, Tom, you are always right. Come up, friends, drink 
with me. 

[Liquor is poured out. Tom F drinks his and takes Pete II. 's. 
Peter picks up glass and tries to drink. Looks into his tumbler 
and all around it, then asks for b >ttle, pours out more whisky, 
while banding bottle buck Tom F. subs itutes a glass of water for 
the whisky. Peter raises his g es it, looks in and around it.] 

• H. — Mein Got! in Hi mm el ras is das. I puds viskcy in 
mcin glass one dime, and veu I trinks dere is de glass, but dunncr, 
. ; and von I puds some more viskey mit mein glass, 
der is rasser, al jr. Ich kon nicht vy dis is so, aber 

es ist war. 

Alf T. — x*es», my friends, if you will listen to me, your hate for 
the cowardly Yankees will become more intense, and your determ- 
ination stronger to resist them. The day the news came to our vil- 
lage that the South dared to assert her rights by firing on the Stars 
and Stripes, the emblem of abolition and oppression, I dared, as a 
freeman, to express my feelings for the South. Put whs I permitted 
to go on? No ! a .hundred cowards, with a rope to hang me, gath- 
ered aronnd and threatened my life. I had but one friend, brave 
Tom Flvnn, the man who accompanied me here. 

Tom F. — Yer right there, Mr. Thornton. It was yersel had always 
:> dollar an' a dhrink for Tom. An' talking about dhrinks, Mr. 
Thornton, sorrow one of me is dhry at all at all, but for the sake of 
the illejrant gintlemeu around me I could dhrink the lakes of Kill- 
arnee dhry. Providen, of course, tbat the lakes were made of po- 
theen instead of nasty wather. 

Bob M. — Strangers, I'll liquor this time. I aiut much for whisky. 
I'd as soon eat a young un with the whoopin' cough as drink alone. 
Put I'll stair this for all hands an' to dry up that are feller who will 
gab like an ole woman with the toothache. Come up all on yon 
an 1 drink, p'raps for the last time with Bob Mason. 



17 

Alf. T. — Glad of the lienor Mr. Mason. 

Long G. — Bob aint heavy on the drink, bo: t him or* 

anything 1 else an ? ye'd better git ont of his Tray. 

[Liquor is poured ont. Dob Mason lays his glass down, when 
Tom F. after drinking his own t on'?, without apparently- 

looking Mason reaches out his left hand -ps Tom's arm with 

such force that a howl of 

pain.] 

Bob M. — See here, you dogoncd lit;! icks 

on men as walks with their eyes >wn with trieir 

eyes open. I don't kar for the wL morn an eagle does for 

lightnen. But if I bought a i oy own use I'd 

have it ia my own !' in the 

mountain. Now git. 

Tom F. — Oh. I 
at all. Sure, avick It is not 

ID our family to wr hand, 

on it. 

Peter JH.—lch 
viskey und der tai • 

Mountaineer. — The through with 

it' you nns keep 
stranger. 

Alf. T. — W b< □ tin polled one 

and facii lured them all and the 

cowards fell back. I told them then 1 intended going into Tennes- 
see to raise a company of mount. kttle for the South. 
For long days and nights I have traveled I i re. 1 nm now 
among yon. Who is willing to j 

[All except I- I .. I - tranger.] 

Mountaineer. — Bob .' wge agoing to 

join us to fight for Tenni 

Bob M. — I aint a man of book larnin 1 like this stranger, whose 
tongue is as smooth as i dangeroos, while his heart is &$ 

hard and as cold, but afore I Bght the Yankees, I want to know 
whar they have wronged me and mine. My young 'nns are safe on 
the mountain, au' I kin come air go, with none to stop me. Long- 
ago I heerd my father speak of Gineral Jackson and the whole 
Union, an' by that I'm goin' to stan'. I have no slaves, uor would 
hit have if I could. I alius thought it sneakin' to steal the game 
killed by another man's rifle. This is a rich man's quarrel, let the 
rich men fight for the South. I'll stau by the Union, an' it'll be 
some unhealthy for the cu=s that trio? to stop me. 



. 18 

Mountaineer. — liver w us North, Bob Mason, they'd baug you. 

Alf T, — Yes, and if the bra*e men South did their duty they 
would hang hira where he stands. 

[Crowd.— Shoot the scoundrel. Hang him up. Cut his heart out. 
They rush at him with knives and pistols. Bob Mason with Long- 
George beside him, coolly backs against the wall, a pistol in each 
hand.] [Exit Tom F. and Peter II. hurriedly.] 

Bob M. — You cowards and skunks, to turn on a mouutaiu man 
tor darin' to do right. Back there, or by the ghost of Gineral Jack- 
son, I'll send daylight through you. (To Thornton). Out of my 
path; Long George and me is goin' North whar you cum'd from, 
and let the devil tempt none of yon to stop me. Keep along side, 
George. The cowards know me too well to shoot. We 'uns will 
return an' look out. you cowards, when we light the signal for the 
hunt on the mountain. 

S C E N !•; S EC N 1). 

lv).\D OB Landscape. [Entir 1st L.] 

Peter Y/. — l>.u Irishman trinks risky alle sames Ich trinks lager. 
It vas so strange, I pig oop mine glass, dere is notting, und ven I 
pigs it opp vonce more, der is vasser, und 1 shoost tinks Peter vas 
der teufel h de madder mid do trinks. 

[Estbb Tom Fi.ynn, 1st L., sixgixg.] 

An:—///// of (Urn O'Kery. 

Och, my name is bould Morgan McCarty, from Thrim, 
Me relations all died except one brother, Jim, 
An' he's gone a fightin' away to Cabul, 
Faith I fear he's laid low wid a nick in his skull. 
But let him be dead or be liven, 
Some prayers for his soul I'll be given, 
That'll sind him sthraight over to heaven, 
For he left me this darlin 1 ould Btbick. 

Och, if this sthick had a tongue, 
Shure it could tell ye some tales, 
How it schmothercd the countenances of the O'Nales ; 
It made bits of skull to fly up in the air, 
It was the promother of fun at aich fair; 
For I swear by the toe nails of Moses 
It often broke bridges of noses — 
Of the factions that dared to oppose us, 
Mvsel' an' mv darlin' ould sthick. 



19 

Ocb, the last time I ued it wuz ou Patrick's day, 
Larry Fagan and I we got on a sphray. 
We went to a fair 'tother side of Atbray. 
An' we danced, an' wain dun, I kissed Kate Mr Aim v. 
An' her thrue love ran out for his cousin : 
By the 'tarnel he brought in a dozen. 
An' they'd knocked us into a doldhreen. 
Hadn't it been for my dariin' ould Bth 

i F. (dticox r 11. — Vc'r there, are ye? Well, 

it, an' whin a Flynn says it, ye may bet it's thrue. ivery word. I'vt* 
thraveled across the ocean, an' I've seen heavy dhrinkin' at home, 
but for a pussy little Dutchman, ye can j is t wear the color. Och. 
by the pipers, its yersel' kin change the location of whiskey with- 
out so much as winkin'. an' ye'r not diirunk ! Well, by my con- 
I respect yer capacity, as Jonah said to the whale. 
r 27. (angrily). — Icu weirs nicht was Bie "tin. 

Was for you trinks mein visk<\v, and was for • jer in 

mein glass, you bese von tain 

Tom /•'.— e jour breath to cool yo oat, an' d 

if ye value yer life, provoke Tom l 3 tare if I wuz to 

lay me paw on ye. divil a one of ye'd have time to offer up a prayer 
till ye'd be where dbrinl irceran' mure needed than in Aist 

Tennessee. (In a milr/rr tone.) Hut. come here, let us be fnens, an" 
tell me if yer parie- how many childhren ye have 

the dead image of yersel'. And avick, jist inform me if ye could 
lone a decent number of my family a dollar and fifty cents for one 
hour air a half. I'm expecting money, musha, God knows 

it's meseT has been expecting it for many a day. 

r //. — (/.' it hi* hand ) I duut rant to make a fuss 

mit you. You're all richt. Hut I geta gros- mid so much d rubble 
all de dime. 

Tom F. — Come over and lane ou me, au if ye have any f rubble 
jist pour it out to me as ye would to yer own blessed mother. 

■ r H. — Vel I tinks 3ome dings all de dime. Yen I conns mit 
dis land I choins de Mericans un I takes vat you call de oat. 

Tom F. — Will, yer not a native American thin. Well upon my 
conscience ye talk so well I thought ye a lively Aist Tennessee 
Mountaineer. 

Peter //.—No, Ich komt from Dentchland aber Ich bin tin Amer- 
icaner by dis paber. Head de paber. 

[Hand* Tom a paper. Tom pretend* to read and tar** il about in /</>) 
kmnde. 

Tom F. — Well, whats this share Me eyes aim as young as tbej 
u*ed to be. 



20 

r 11. — Vy das ist inein allegiance, de paber mit vich I makes 
mine vote at de polls in lectin time. 

Tom F. — You take that paper to the polls? 
Peter II. — 0. jab, all de dime. 

Tern F. — Well, 1 ic sorry yer a foreigner and dont understan the 
lnglish tongue. Tve been voten since the day I landed, and doru'd 
if I iver had to take an oath, or git a dirty bit of paper like that to 
do it. 

r II. — But vut shall I do, shall I go siit de Onion, or mil de 
.State, I have very much drabble bout dat. 

/'. — Arrah, me frien, giveyersel no thrubble about goin with 
the Union or tte Sthate, but give me the dollar and fifty ciuts ye 
promised, an go wid me an III dhrink yer health iu a bumper. 

E ' ' ' B 



< G K N i: T II I 11 D. 

Rocky pas* ockbano fire, Bob Mabon, Lokg George, 

Father Allen an;) Refcg >vered. 

— Wail, I'm right smart glad we're in Kaintuck. Hope 
that Thornton and his noun's won't chase us anymore. Kaintuck's 
neutral. Ain't for lighten nobody. 

Bob M. — Ye can't make a mountain cat look like a deer, nor 
squeeze fire 30 flat as to take it for water. Kaintuck is crouching 
on the hill top like a lynx, and which ever side she springs on look 
out. Though it may be that there is a lynx wanton' to go at each 
side. Then I say look out for a fight between the lynxs. 

Father A. — Already we have lost many of our number to reach 
this place, but we can only be Bafe under the Hag 1 carried as a. 
soldier in the everglades of Florida. 

Hob M. — Don't be cast down father Allen. We' una will Stan' by 
you like us lookout by the Tennessee. The men are posted ou 
guard, and if we are attacked again to-night, God pity the men that, 
drive us to bay. 

Father A. — 1 know you are brave, Uob, but what are we against 
so many. Our friends arc slain on the mountains, or hanging to 
the [dues on the hill side-. I do not like this place; there is no 
chonct lor retreat. 

Bab M. — No, father, no chance for retreat; thar is no need for 
retreat. Night an' day they have driven us from our homes and 
families, and my heart is sore with our sufferings and wrongs. 
Hetter die like brave men heah in Kaintuck, than be dogged still 



■21 

farther through the mountains, with sore feet an 1 Etarrin' inwards, 
an' hearts full of sorrow. Better die whar the ring of our rifles 
will echo near our own mountains, than fall off one by one. a prey 
to the blood hounds who chase us. 

Long O. — That talk suits me, Bob. I'm out of Tennessee, and 
doggoned if I want to run any more. 

Fugitives. — It suits me. And me. And me. 

Father A. — God bless you my brave boys. Come about the fire. 
(Listening.) Hark, I heard a yell away down the mountain. Did 
you hear it, Bob? 

Bob. T. — No, father Allen, it was the wind I reckon blown around 
the rocks. I often hear it so in the mountains a night. 

Father A. — Well, I am getting kind of old, I reckon, *nd I aint 
young, an' I feel the walkeir an' starven' more than younger men. 
Though I will say, Bob, I have eaten more of your bread than you 
have yourseF. (Listens.) I did hear a sound Bob. I am not mis- 
taken. It comes from towards Gumb rap. 

(Bob Mason it 

Bob M. — Tom Dav. 
Echo.— Hello ! 

Bob M. — Can you see down the valley? 
Echo. — I can sir. 
Dob M. — What do you 
Echo. — A light on the mountain. 
Bob M. — All right, shout if it con 
Echo. — I will. 

Father A. — I want to speak to all, for I feel the 
ing will soon come. 

Long G. — Speak out lather Allen, we are listening. 

Father A. — You know that it will be death to fall into Th 

ton's hands. 

Fugitives. — We do. 

Father A. — You know it will be death to return to Tenni 
without the flag. 

Fugitives. — We do. We do. 

Father 4. — Let us bind ourselves together by an oath before 
Heaven, as we are now bound by our feelings. Are you willing to 
swear to" stand by the last man till death, and the Union through 
life. 

Fugitives. — We are. We are. 

Father A.— Bob give me the old flag. 



22 

(Bob Mason takes flag from hunting pouch and hands father Allen.) 

Father A. — All lay your hands on this flag and repeat after me. 

(All lag their hands on the flag and uncover their heads, as Father Al- 
len speakesin a slow solemn voice, with his face raised.) 

Father. A — In the presence of God, here in his mountain temples, 
I pledge my wordly goods, and stand ready to lay down my life, to 
defend this flag, which I swear to protect as the emblem of the 
whole Union. And I promise before Heaven always to stand by 
my brothers who are here, and to permit neither myself nor them 
to be captured alive by the Rebels. And if God spares my life, 
day and night, winter and srammer, in sunshine and in rain, I will 
battle with thi3 one heart object : to bring the flag in triumph to 
Tennessee, and every part of the Union. Asking God to bless and 
guard us, we swear. 

(Bob Mason ties the flag to a stick and fastens it in the rocks, while do- 
ing so a shot is heard from the mountains.) 

Echo. — They are coming. All about us. 

Bob J/.— Come down, come. (To Long George.) Call in the 
guards. Here father Allen stand near this rock where you will be 
Fafc. 1 think the day is breaking. 

(Shooting heard in ihe distance. Guards rush in.) 

\st Guard. — Thornton is close by. Oh, God, we are lost. 

[Bob Mason cooly raises his rifle and fires. The rest follow and 
fire briskly. A cry of pain is heard as fugitives fall back, and 
Father Allen falls dying, with face to the mountain.] 

Tableaux — Troops Marching up the Mountain. 

Father A. — Now, oh, Lord, 1 can die in peace, the flag has come 
back to Tennessee. 

Mun'c — Curtain*. 



23 



ACT III. 

SCENE FIRST. 

Slot? Music. 

Parlor in Farmer Johnson's House. Jerusha Johnson, Lucy 
Johnson, Alice Gray, Susan Maria Hansom, and other ladies, 
discovered sewing and knitting. 

Jerusha J. — I am not suprised at anything now. Two years ago 
when the war broke out, if any one had told me Mr. Goodman 
would have dressed up in fancy clothes and gone off for a Chaplain, 
I would have said he is a man of peace, and looks on all those 
things as vanity. So, Lucy, I am not surprised that you want to 
leave and go down into those wild mountains to nurse men. Oh, 
when I was young — I mean when I was a child, young girls were 
not so reckless as they are now. 

Lucy J. — Aunt, I am sorry you should consider me reckless. 
The lines of duty and desire do not always run parallel. I would 
prefer for my own comfort to remain in this quiet home, working 
with you and my friends to show the soldier boys we do not forget 
them. But, when I read of terrible battles and the suffering 
wounded, suffering for me and you, Aunt, I feel duty calling me 
from comfort to hardship, that I may minister to other brothers and 
friends, as I would have mine cared for. 

Jerusha J. — Well, well, T suppose I would do the same thing. I 
wonder if Chaplains have to fight. 

Alice G. — I hope they do. I know I weuld not want to wear the 
uniform if I could not fight. 

Lucy J. — Why, you dear child, you have no thought of donning 
the uniform, have you? 

Alice G. — No, not exactly. But if Mother were well I would not 
remain here a day. I feel sometimes when I read of terrible 
marches and cold nights on picket, that I would like to rest a sol- 
dier by carrying his knapsack, or acting for him on guard. (Turn- 
ing to Lucy.) By-the-way, Lucy, dear, have you fully made up your 
mind to go? 

Lucy J. — Yes, and I have decided to start for Chattanooga to- 
morrow. 



24 

Ml Maria. — Well, now, Lucy, ye'll see my Jim Hansom down 
there, and I want you to tell him to be awful keerful and not run 
into danger. Whin he writ last time he tole me he kem nigh bein' 
shot in the hat. Just think how close that is to Jim's head. You 
know, Lucy, he always would wear bis hat over his eyes. Try an' 
get Jim not to do so any more. 

Alice G. — Better have a ball near hn hat. Susan Maria, than a 
brick in it. 

Susan Maria. — 1 do say, Alice Gray, you'r the queerest gal I ever 
seed. What would my Jim be doing with a brick in his hat. 

Alice G. — Why, Susan Maria, the bricks are supposed to be mixed 
with whiskey, and are carried for the heat and the cold. And men 
put them in their hats when they feel sleepy, and too wide awake, 
and when they fed happy, and tired, and — 

Waria.. — Why, sakes alive, Alice Gray, I do hope my Jim 
will have one of them bricks in his hat all the time, [laughter) 

(Enter Abbey Smith 1st /?.) 

Abbey S. — Oh, Miss Lucy, Mr. Ludlow an' Mr. Williams, an' Mr. 
Johnson, your dear father, an' Mr. Gray, an' they all says are you 
ready to see them, an' Miss Lucy when are you going away, an' will 
you be sure to see my vanity. I have something for him. 

Lucy J. — Your vanity, why what do you mean you silly girl. 

Abbey S. — (t< ice uilh apron.) Oh, you know Miss Lucy. 

Lucy J. — How should I know, you foolish thing? 

Abbey S. — Sam Roberts, he's my vanity. Oh, if Sam was to git 
hart, I declare to goodness I'd take laudlum, or go down there an' 
just tear the eyes out of them nasty rebels. 

Jerusha J. — There, there, Abbey Smith, you make me blush. 
What is this world coming to. Tell the gentlemen to walk in. 

Abbey S. — Yes mum. [Exit 1st R.] 

[Enter 1st R. Squire Williams, Farmlii Johnson, Mr. Ludlow 
and Kb. Gray. They sltakc hand* with the Ladies. Enter 1st R. 
Abb it Smith.] 

Squire W.— Hard at work. Now, thats right. I believe in doing 
everything to restore the Union. Susan Maria you know that. 
Didn't I send Jim Hansom off at once ? Yes, and I'd send every re- 
lative in the world. 

Mr. L. — No body can doubt your patriotism Squire. They say 
Morgan is coming this way from Indiana. Of course you will turn 
out to fight him. 

[Jerusha Johnson screams, and Abbey Smith gives her a drink.) 

Squire W. — Jim nansom ought to be here. When I was young, 



Mr. Ludlow, I could fight. I dar'd au Englishman one lime to come 
into my yard. But now, now, Mr. Ludlow. I'm too old. And then 
the school. You see I'm a trustee. 

Farmer J. — That's true, Squire, the country could'nt get along 
without you. And a good school director is hard to get : but I 
have one boy a fighter for the Union, an' here's my girl Lucy again 
to leave me like a little angel to keer for the wounded. I aint no 
better than my children, and if John Morgan comes this way I'll 
help to make it tough work carryin' war into Ohio. Darn me if I 
don't. (Quickly.) Excuse me, ladies, but of lite I often feel like 
cussen. 

Jcruska J. — Oh. brother, what will become of the country if yon 
are so wicked. 

Alice G. — I just wish I was a man sometimes, Mr. Johnson. 

Farmer J. — Wky t Alice, what would Jack do if you were. What 
do you want to be a man for ? 

Alice G. — Why I would like to sit down b at the Rebels 

till I calmed myself. 

Jeruslia J. — Oh, when I was young ; I mean when I was a girl ; 
young folks did'nt dare to talk so. What is this world coming to. 

Mr. L, — By-the-way, Lucy. I heard from Louis to-day. He desir- 
ed me to say he wrote you at the same time. He goes into raptures 
over that noble fellow. Lob Mason, whom they rescued in the moun- 
tain two years ago. I often think of that occurrence, and I hope be- 
fore the war closes the death of that old man they called father 
Allen, may be aven_ 

Lucy J. — Yes. I beard from Louis this morning. He informs me 
that a great fight is daily expected. I am the more anxious to get 
off, so as to be there in time. 

Jeruslia J. — Come, girls, handle up your work, nexc week we 
meet at Mr. Gra 

Mr. G. — Where I shall to have you. 

Alice (,'. — Oh, before putting away tfa :g I wish to put this 

letter in. It will do some brave boy good to read it. Lucy, dar- 
ling, I will not bid you To-morrow I will be over to seo 
you. 

Squire W. — Ye:, we will all be over to see her off. She ha3 the 
sort of pluck I like. [Exit all but Squibb W., Jerusha J. and Ab- 
bey S.] Oh, if I was only young. (Exit.) 

JcrushaJ. — 0, if I was only young. But all is vanity. !. 

Abbey S.— Oh. if I was only Mrs. Robert's vanity. 



26 

S C E N K S E G N D . 

Landscape oh Woo:*. 

Bob M. — (Esteu 1st L.) By the ghost of Gineral Jackson, this 
looks bad for mc. Was an August frost, or a brokeu water wheel 
an' no flour in the mill. Who'd have thought of Rebels so near our 
lines. I had to run like a stag before the blood houu's last night, 
an' now, when I thought mysel all safe, the dogon'd grey cusses are 
all around me like the measels. If I kin jest get into our lines. 
we'uns will be ready ; if I don't, may the Lor' help us, for the're a 
comin' down powerful strong, like a mountain river arter a July 
vain. Hist, there. {Lays hand on pistol,) I'll try this way, (turns to 
right.) Thar I see 'em gropen along an 1 in oven roun' this way by 
the bill. If I had my ride I'd make it onpleasant for a few of 'em 
afore they gits up. (Goes Left. Shot heard. Bob Mason springs 
t-ack, drawing ]>islol. Shout is heard.) Veil away, yeh dogon'd sneaks. 
Ye'll find I'm harder to git than a catfish on the mountain top. 

[Shot heard. Hob Mason springs back and fires. Enter Rebel 
squad 1st L. Bob Mason fires, killing officer in command. Retreats 
Right, when more Rebels enter 1st II, and surround him. 

Lieut, of Rebel*. — Surrender, surrender, you Yankee bush whacker. 

Bob Jf. — (Unfastening his belt and laying down hie pittols ) Thar, 
- all yeh kin have at present, as the catamount said whin they 
took his skin off. 

Lieut, of R. — We will not only have your skin, but your life. 
[Turning to his men.) This is Rob Mason, the scout. Bring a rope 
here, boys, we will s^on make short work of him. Blast him, that 
firing was too close to the Yankee lines. Keep n good watch down 
tli ere. 

. — All right, sir. 

[Rebels take off Bob Mason's coat and hat, then bind his hands 

behind I Q rope about his neck.] 

'B. — You have killed Thomas Ludlow, one of my bravest 

men. You nave hern a curse to this region. Have you anything 

v before you ; ; 

Bob jf. — I aint much :it speakin', wimen, that live a long time, 

an 1 cowards have heaps of gab. I've done nothin' to bring a blush 

born. I have fought for the Union, an' my 

only sorrow in' is that I can't live to help her more. I once 

,im' children. I loved m 



tie borne an' my wife an' babies, but you uds hunted me down like 
a stag, from hill to hill, till I left the State. An' then like cowards, 
in the cold winter, you uns|burned my hut to the groun', an' my wife 
an' little ones starved in the mountain. My heart has long carried 
a fire lit by the men who ruined me an' miue. I've paid you. I'm 
willin' to be at rest, an' meet them up thar. 

Lieut, of Rebels. — Swing him up men. (Men prepare to e. 
Hob Mason, when a )eard.) Quick, men, the Yankees are 

coming. 

[Shot? heard, the man fastening the rope falls wounded. Rel 
rally for an instant, then fall back, when Louis Ludlow dashes on 

with Union soldiers.] 

Louis L. — (Frees Bob Mason.) Hello Bob. We came just in time. 

Bob M. — I was never > see frien's in my life, as tb< 

said to the honey 1 

Louis L. — \ Bad command of our ad 
the firing some time ago, and reported to the officer in command, 
lie sent me out to ascertain what it was. 1 hurried on and as I 
came up the bill I saw that wounded fellov rope about to 

hang you. 

M, — (looking II" knows some' 

him right smart at that time. Tl lead over 

thar. 

Louis L. — (Crossing an I Merciful Heaven, 

Bob, you have killed my brother. This is Tom my poor brave mis- 
guided Tom. (Km i his heart.) D 
dead, dead. Oh, Tom, (Jod knows how I would have saved you at 
the risk of my life. Your heart my brother was always right. 
(Rising.) There is no time for sorrow, here boys we must car: 
body back, bring a couple of muskets. (Bis.) 

Bob M. — Sergeant afore Heaven I did nt know he was your 
brother. My hand would wither afore it would be raised 'gain-' 
or yours. 

Louis L. — (Seizing Bob Ma '.) You did your duty Bob. 

may every soldier do his as well. But that poor boy was my 
brother, and bitterly as I hate this rebellion, I could not raise my 
rifle against him. My poor father when you hear of this. 

(All Exit carrying body and Guarding Prisoner wno limps.) 



28 

SCENE THIRD. 

Music. — Yankee Boodle. Dark AVood. 

[A Union skirmish line advances across the the stage firing. A 
regiment appears, with Louis Ludlow carrying the colors, deploys in 
line of battle and advances. Before crossing stage Union skirmishers 
are driven back. The regiment halts and fires a volley on the 
Rebels who advance with a yell. The regiment falls back, Louis 
Ludlow and several Union soldiers drop. Louis Ludlow drops 
colors also. Music. — Dixie. The Rebels charge on stage and after 
Union troops who retreat off to right, Rebels following. Noise of 
battle gradually dies off iu distance.] 

Louis L.— [Rising in wonder and feeling bleeding head.) ^ Where am I, 
where is the regiment. (Hears Rebel yells.) Oh God we are beaten. 
The colors where are the colors. (Looks around and picks them up.) 
The enemy is falling back this way; my flag. The flag I swore a 
traitors hand should never touch, must it be disgraced now? No, 
no. Now God give me strength. (Takes flag from the staff and opens 
his breast.) Here near my heart I will wear it. Here till I die I will 
carrj' the colors. (Conceals flag in breast.) They must not see the 
staff. Ah, there's a hollow log. Hides flag stafl) then falls pressing 
his hand to his head.) 

[Enter Redel Officer with Squad.] 

Lieut, of R. — (looking over the line.) The enemy is advancing in 
force, see they are pushing back our centre. (Cheer is heard.) 
They have captured Nolen's Battery. I fear the day is lost. Take 
this prisoner to the rear quick. [Exit left with Louis Ludlow.] 

Music — Star Spangled Banner. 

[Rebel troops fall back firing to the left of stage, Union troops 
charge.] TABLEAUX. 



20 



ACT IV. 
S C E N B F I R S T. 

Plain Chamber. Richmond, Va. Plaintive Music. Lucy John- 
son and Capt. Alfred Thornton discovered. 

j±Ij\ r.— Well, Miss Johnson, I hope the men have treated you well 
since your capture near Knoxville. I had charge of you, and but 
for me you would have been hanged as a rpy after you were cap- 
tured roaming among the wounded. Do you know where you are 
now ? 

Lucy J. — I do not, sir. 

Alf. T. — You are in the city of Richmond, Virginia. You have 
made the tour from Tennessee with Longstreet's corps. We had to 
fall back before the Yankees, under that scoundrel Burnside, but 
we got nearly even with him. 1 suppose you know we captured 
Louis Ludlow near Knoxville. He was in our hands for some time.. 
I tried to save him but he died a few days since of his wound. 

Lucy J. — (Pressing her hand to her forehead.) Oo on sir, tell me- 
why you have intruded. 

Alf T. — From no desire to annoy you, Miss Johnson. Every care 
bestowed upon you up to this time has been through my influence. 
I have saved you from insult and disgrace, and 1 have watched 
over you when you dreamt no friend was nigh. Even now there 
are charges against you as a spy. They can be proved ; but your 
life and honor must depend on the reply you give me. 

Lucy J. — Mr. Thornton I left my home on a holy mission to care 
for the wounded, who might fall for my country. I learned that 
Louis Ludlow was dying on the field before Knoxville and went to 
his aid. Your men took me prisoner and carried me here. You 
are the moving spirit in this matter, and my death will be on your 
head. 

Alf T. — Louis Ludlow I respected as a brave man. He is dead, and 
his fate lies before you if you do not accept me as a friend. (Draws 
mar and tries to take her hand.) Ob, Lucy, I have loved you with an 
intensity weaker natures could not feel. Day and night since I left 
you, your image has haunted me, and to win even a smile from 
you 1 would sacrifice all else that's worldly. 

Lucy J. — Sir, I desire no more of this ; it is cowardly thus to ia- 
" 3* 



30 

suit me with the memory of the dead in my heart. I desire to be 
tried, believing that the Southern men are brave and honorable, be- 
lieving that only your falsehood and wicked designs have kept me a 
prisoner. Leave me, sir. at once. Your very presence is worse than 
death. 

Alf T. — Not so fast, Miss Johnson, not so fast. For three weeks, 
though you knew it not, I have been your escort, and my comrades 
laughed and winked when I approached in the evening's camp the 
wagon that contained you. Even if you should be dismissed after 
trial you will leave with a stain and a dishonor on your name. 

Lucy J. — Oh you are brave thus to insult a helpless girl {holding 
up her arm*.) My arms are weaker than yours, and there is no one 
stronger here to protect me. But here, here in my heart I am con- 
scious of ray honor and parity. And up there at the judgment seat 
I can stand feeling that I have tried to do my duty, knowing that 
by word or deed 1 have never wronged the humblest of God's crea- 
tures. Now Mr. Thornton are you prepared to do the same? 

Alf. T. — You will drive me mad if you talk so. If I sink the 
lowest of men it is you who have driven me to it. if I rise regret- 
ting the errors I ask (lod to forgive it must be through you. You. 
with no tie that can bind you to the dead, can save me. (Goes to 
the door and sees that if is Lucy I have ever regretted draw- 

ing my sword against the cause you love. Give me hope. Tell me 
that you may regard me. and to-night I will make arrangements 
whereby we may escape to the Federal lines. Once there I will 
light for the Union nerved by the hope of your love, and you can 
watch me from the protection of your honor. 

Lucy ./. — Sir, 1 respect a brave man, fighting honestly in any 
cause. I despise a villain, though he stands in the pulpit. Xo 
cause would make you good. No sword would make you brave. 
You are as devoid of patriotism as you are of honor. If there be 
one spark of the love left you bore your mother, leave me. Leave me. 

Alf. T. — [Excitedly.) ^'es, I will leave you, you decide your own 
fate. Death awaits you, or worse, a disgrace which will cling to 
your name and follow you to your grave, and my curse, the curse 
of a life you have blasted, will follow you forever. Death has no 
longer a dread for me, and it will be sweet if it comes with the an- 
guish of those }o\\ love. Louis Ludlow is not dead. (Lucy start*, 
and clasping her hands, looks up, as if in prayer.) lie is here, within 
hearing distance of your voice, a prisoner in the Libby. Down below 
its gloomy rooms there are damp cells, where no ray of light ever en- 
ters. I kuow Turner, and through him I will place Ludlow where 
the green slime will cover him, and where, a yellow manacled skel- 
eton, he will pray for death. Think this over, his fate is in your 
hands. To-morrow I will cm 11 again. [Exit 1st IL] 



Lucy J, — (Solas.) Oh, if I could die ! It seems as if my poor 
heart would break ! Louis 1 raj own brave Louis! God knows I 
would die to save you ! Ob, Father of all, guard him. protect me. 
(Starting.) A noise ! Who comes there ? 

[Enter 1st R. Toney, who closes the door carefully , while Lucy re- 
treats with an expression of fear.'] 

Toney — (bowing.) Don't be skeered of me, Miss. I aint white 
like Cap'n Thornton. 

Lucy J. — Who arc you ? What do you want here? 

>/. — I am Toney, Cap'n Thornton's colored boy. I heard 
him, Miss. I was at de door when he talked so. Fore Heabcn, 
Cap'n Thornton's a bad man. ft won't be safe for you to stay heah, 
no how. Miss, I'se only a poor colo'd boy, an' I don't know much, but 
I docs know dat up dar dere's a Ood, who'll judge me bi'ne bye, an' 
I docs know dat my heart is good. Eber since Lincura'fl 'clamation, 
Psc wanted to clarout and go whar dar'a liberty fur all men ob ebery 
colo\ 1 knows how good, like an angel, yeh's bin a keerin' fur de 
wounded. I hab slept ebery night like a watch dog, under de 
wagon yell wuz in, an' I said to (lod I'd dio afore any wrong came 
eh; 
Lucy •/. — 1 have seen you before. 

Toney. — Yes. Miss. Now let me say dar'a heaps ob danger heah 
wid dat bad man. Von kin 'scape to de Yankee lines. 
<! .1 . — Escape ! How ? 
Toney. — I knows all de country down to Fort .Monroe : been ober 
it many a time. Afore two days from to-night yen kin be in de 
Yankee lines, if yeh is willin' to b'lieve. Toney will be a friend. 
[Draws a small pistol from his pocket. Lucy starts back frightened, ) 
Heah, Miss, am a pistol, all loaded. See ! If yeh say yeh'll scape 
keep dat ar' an' sen' a bullet to Toney's heart if he aint true as de 
sun. I swear afore Ileaben to be yer slave till I takes yeh ont ob 
danger. 

Lucy ■/. —I believe von are good. But tell me ! How can we get 
off? 

■•//. — I'll git a mule to-night and put you on, about twelve 
o'clock, and tote yeh out whar no one will sec, an' den, outside de 
lines I'll walk and jes make dat ar mule git. I knows all de culled 
people. Pcy'le help me. 

/ J. — I will trust you. Xo-night at twelve o'clock. (Shi 
s pistol and conceals it.) 
Tone?/. — Yes, Miss, I'll be at de winder 

[Exit 1st R.] 
Lucy J. — Oh, Louis, if you were onlr with me now. 

[Exit 1st L.] 



32 



SCENE SECOND. 

[Room in Libby Prison. Louis Ludlow discovered talking to 
a Fellow Prisoner. Other Prisoners in tiie back ground.] 

Lfbuis L. — We kept it secret up to this time. To-night we are 
going out. 

Prisoner, — You astound me, Lieutenant. Please explain it. 

Louis L. — To begin with , 1 am not a Lieutenant. I gave my 
name as as officer, hoping to escape with the colors I still carry. 
and believing I can make it right after I get out. Now this tunnel 
we have been working on for over a month, Col. Rose of the Sev- 
enty-seventh Pennsylvania planned. By removing the bricks in 
the wall of the iloor below this we descended into the basement. 
Once there we cut through the foundation and made the street. 
We came up the east, near that warehouse where the boxes are 
stored. 1 have worked there nearly every night, now, thank God, 
it is completed. You must be ready to go out to-night. 

Prisoner. — Thank you, Ludlow, I will be read}*. May I tell a 
friend of mine ? 

Louis Lj. — ves, but if too many know it, I am afraid none of us 
ran get out. By the way, here is a friend. I must leave you. 

[Enter Boa Mason, 2d L., disguised as a negro, with a pail and 
broom. Another black man, carrying a pan, from which smoke 
arises. Bob Mason and Louis Ludlow walk aside. Prisoners con- 
versing in back ground.] 

Louis L. — Bob, you have kept me nervous every day since you 
<ame here, and now, on the eve of my escape, I think more of your 
safety than I do of my own. 

Bob M. — It is easy to have a stout heart whin thar's no danger. 
Mine grows stronger whin I think of saven you, an' yours will not 
Mutter whin you git out under the stars and feel God's fresh air a 
blowen on your cheek, an' know you are free. I'd die if I wuz a 
pris'ner as many brave men is dyin' here. 

Louis Lj. — You know where the tunnel comes up near the ware- 
house ! 

Bob M. — I reckon I does. I've been a watehin' to see dirt raised 
thar for a week. 

Louis Lj. — To-night stand near the canal, dressed as a rebel sol- 
dier. Have a grey coat ready for me, and when the guard calls, 
1 Half past one — Post number ten — All's well, ' watch, 1 will be 
coming out of the tunnel. 



Bob M. — I'll watch, an* I'll have suthin' niore'n a coat. I've 
"ranged to git some pistols and cartridges, besides plenty of fodder. 
Don't take none of this dogon'd iron clad corn bread you'ns have 
to eat heah. It's powerful ruinin' on the teeth. 

Louis L. — Be careful Bob. Your detection would be certain 
death. 

Bob. M. — I'll be keerful on your account. I used to fear death, 
but thar's not much to make it skeery now. I saw Thornton yes- 
terday, the sneaken cuss. He didn't know me, but I jis wanted to 
look him in the eye an' tell him what I thought on him. 

Louis L. — Time will make all things even. Wait. 

Bob. M. — [Sweeping floor.) I will, till — Half past one. Post Xo. 
Ten. All's well. 

[Enter 2d L., Rebel Guard. Exit 2d L., IJok .Mason and Negro.] 

Officer Prison Guard. — Turn out for roll call, you Yankees. (To 
prisoner on floor.) Here, get up, you dog, and go to roll call. 

Prisoner. — I am sick, I cannot move. Let me off this time. 

Officer Prison Guard — Here, guard?, use your bayonets and get 
this fellow up. 

[Prisoner arises and totters as guards advance.] 



SCENE THIRD. 
Dark Wood. 

[Enter 1st L. Lucy Johnson and Toney. Lucy Johnson sinks to 
ground exhausted.] 

Toney. — (Hurriedly) Oh, Lor', did is orful. Dat mule gin out last 
night and de poor chile tried to walk. Know'd she could'nt do it 
no how. Miss Johnson, please look up. (Lucy turns her head to- 
wards him.) I kin pick yen up an' tote yeh like a chile, we're near 
de Yankee lines. Do let me, Miss. De rebels is neah, I seed dem 
jis down de road afore I com'd up. 

Lucy J. — (Reclining on one arm.) Toney, God bless you. You 
have been good and fathful. You did your best. Oh, it is better 
to die here, wearied and starving under the blue vault of Heaven, 
than to bear the horrors of imprisonment near that bad man. 

Toney. — Let me tote you, Miss. Oh, I kin carry you. (Starts and 
looks down the road.) Afore God, Miss, dere a cumin. Dar, I sees 
'em. Dey'll take you again. Let me cairy you off. 

Lucy J. — Go Toney, save yourself, I feel as if my heart were bro- 
ken. I cannot live. Go North to Ohio, to Carlton. See mv father 



and tell bim how I died. Here {removes a ring from her finger,) give 
this to my father for Louis Ludlow should he live. (Starts up and 
looks down the road } then sinks) Save yourself, Tone}'. Go, go, they 
are coming. 

Toney. — (looking down the road.) Yes, Miss, dey are cumin', but 
'fore Heaven dey aint rebels. Dey arc near here an' got no guns. 
De large man is ahelpen de odder. He's a 'scapin Yankee. I see dey 
is near. Don't be skeered, 

[Lucy springs to her feet, looks down the road, then gives a cry 
of joy.] 

Enter 1st L. Louis Ludlow and Bob Mason. 

Lucy J. — Oh, Lcrsis, Louis, my own Louis. (Faints in Louis Lud- 
low's arms.) 

Loin's Lj. — (To Toney.) Boy, how is this, explain quick. (Draws 
pistol.) 

Toney. — Stop, Massa, I'm Miss Johnson's friend. She went amiss 
in Tennessee, an' Cap'n Thornton captured her an' took her with 
Longstreet to Virginia, lie was a goin' to have her hung, but I 
heerd him, an' she's 'scapin wud me now to de Union lines. Dis is 
true. (Lucy Johnson recovers ) 

Louis Lj. — My darling Lucy. Did you indeed carry out your plan 
to go to Tennessee to nurse the wounded. 

Lucy J. — I did Louis. I did. 

Louis L. — And were you captured by that scoundrel, Thornton, 
and are you now escaping. 

Lucy J. — Yes, Louis, and this brave boy, Toney, has saved me. 
Thank him, thank him. 

Louis L. — (To Toney.) Forgive me for my fears. God bless you 
my brave fellow. 

Toney.— Dat's all right. Reckon Miss Lucy 'ill let you tote her 
all day. 

Bob M.— ( Who has been looking to the right.) The day is breaking. 
Away off I see the flag an' the fires, and here close at hand are the 
Union soldiers. Hurrah for Gineral Jackson. 

[All cheer as Union pickets enter 1st R. Louis Ludlow hurried- 
ly opens his breast.] 

Louis L. — We are escaped prisoners. Here is the flag of my reg- 
iment. I was color sergeant. No rebel hand ever touched it. 
Thank God it is back without disgrace, 

Soldiers.— Three cheers for the color guard. Hip. hip, &c. 

Louis L.— Here is a lady, I will explain all when 1 get to camp. 
Conduct me to vour commanding officer. 

[All Exit 1st R.J 



85 



S C E X E FOURTH. 
Wood or Landscape. 

[Camp of Federal troops discovered asleep. Guards in rear. 
Assembly. Troops fall in for roll call. Adjutant renorts troops 
dismissed. Enter pickets 2nd R. escorting Louis Ludlow. Lucy 
Johnson, Bob Mason and Toney.] 

Sergeant.— Escaped prisoners frou Richmond. Here is a sergeant 
who never forsook his colors. 

[Louis Ludlow exhibits flag to officer. Lucy Johnson given a 
seat. Soldiers gather around and cheer.] 

SONG.— The Stantard Watch. 

Where floats the Standard o'er the tented plain. 

His lonely watch the minstrel knight is keeping, 

And thus beguiles the time with tuneful strain 

His silver lute with mailed finger sweeping. 

The lady of my love I may not name, 

I dare not hope my love can be requited ; 

Yet 1 will fight for Liberty and fame. 

Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted. 

Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted! 

The night is gone ; the battle comes with day : 
Behold, the bard surrounding foes defying, * 
Red carnage marks his presence in the fray, 
While still he sings amid the dead and dying. 
The lady of my love I may not name, 
I dare not hope my love can be requited : 
Then let me die for Liberty and fame, 
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted. 
Beneath the banner where my vowa were plighted. 

The fight is won, death sated quits the field : 

Yet still the faithful bard, while life is fleeting. 

Expiring lies upon his gory shield, 

This dying note with feeble voice repeating. 

The lady of my love I did not name, 

In Heaven above we may vet be united ; 

I fought and fell for liberty and fame. 

Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted, 

Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted. 

TABLEAUX. 






_a.c rr v. 

E X E FIRST. 

Wood or Lancsoi.pi. Lapse of Eighteen Months. Music. — 
Marching through Gkorgia. A Bivouac of Union troops on the 
march to the sea. Night scene. Soldiers in group3 sitting 
clown. Guards rear. Enter Hummers laden with fowl?, meat. &c. 
Are greeted with laughter and cheers. 

Bob. if. — Afore we started on this march from Atlanta. I would 
have bet a critter to a plug of terbaka, that Jim Brownlow's Ten- 
nessceans was the heaviest foragers in the army ; hut thar's no use 
talken, you'uns have got a nat'ral knack at foragin' that no 'mount 
ofteachin' I'll give. See heah Sam Roberts what in thunder did 
yeh bring them ar crinoline heah fur? We can't eat it, an' Uncle 
Dill Sherman won't let yeh wear it, an' if he did you wouldn't. Its 
no more use than two tails to a yellar purp. 

Sum 11. — Now sec here Bob, I'll tell yeh why I hankered arter 
that crinoline. I've got a gal up home, an' as we're a driven fur 
the sea, I thought it would remind me of Abbey Smith. We 
ought to have something to remind us of a woman 'bout camp. 

}[. — I've know'd fellers as lost thar liar an' they never 
scratched thar heads without thinkiiv of a woman. 

/,'. — [Holding up the crinoline,) Never mind Rub, we can tie 
i::) this and can use it for catchin' turkeys. 

Bob M. — Wall it may com'e in play tint way for its caught a 

idlow advances laughing at the crinoline.] 

here Louis. Do you think Abbey wonld wear that 
i: I took it North. 

is L. — [laughing.) Wear it? Yes over jour back. But did 

tr the news? 
Soldiers. — (Galhcrirr/ around.) 

Louis A.— Well, we are to strike Savannah in a few days. And 
n we move North for God's country. 
—Hurrah for God's country. 
Lcuie L. — I think that fight of yesterday was the Ia3t. We wip- 
I r i hornton pretty well. 



37 

Bob M. — We took all the fight out of him, as the doctors said 
when they put the chaps head in a kag of fourth proof whisky. 

Sam R. — Thunder but I feel good. Lets have a song. Raise her 
up boys, and I'll come in on the chorus like a forty pound hammer 
on a nail. 

SONG. — Air, Cheer Boys, Cheer. 

Cheer boys cheer, we're marching on to battle, 

Cheer boys cheer, for your sweethearts and you wives. 
Cheer boys cheer, we'll nobly do our duty. 

And give to the Union, Our hearts, our arms and lives 
As onward we march praying for the ending. 

Let us implore a blessing from on high. 
Our cause is just, the right from wrong defending. 

And the God of battles will listen to our cry. 
Chorus— Cheer boys, cheer. &c. 

Look up to the sky, the clouds will soon be breaking. 

Look forward at the foe, before us he must yield. 
Then throw up the flag, the traitors have forsaken, 

And ring out your battle cry, and forward to the field. 
Cho. — Cheer boys, cheer, we're ready for the battle, 

Cheer boys, cheer, for your sweethearts and your wives 
And as around the storm of death may rattle 

We'll give to the Union our hearts, our arms, our lives. 

(.'lose up the line, for Liberty is pleading. 
Draw every sword, for Treason we defy. 
Forward in the charge, Sherman our troops is leading. 
And the God of battles is bending to our cry. 
Chorus — Cheer boys, cheer, &c. 

Sam A\ — That's a good song, but you ought to hear the one I 
composed about Abbey. I writ it down at Kenesaw mountain, one 
evenin' when I was feeling skeered and did'nt expect to see her no 
more. 

Soldiers — Sing it Sam. Lift her up. 

Sam R. — No boys. If I was to sing that sad song you'd all get 
cryin' so the waters would rise, an' we could'nt git out of camp 
without a pontoon. 

Bob M. — I heard a very sorry sounden song one of our East Ten- 
nessee gals writ to one of Jim Brownlow's men. I can't sing any 
mor'n a cat kin blow a horn, but some of the words is : 

•'Tis hard for you una to go to war, 
Tis hard for vou uns to fight. 



38 

Tis hard for you uns to march all day 

An' sleep in a tent at night. 
But 'tis harder for we'uns from you'ns to part 
Whin you'uns have got we'unses heart. (Laugh 

Now I call that poetry, only Jim's fellows don't sleep in any tents 
much. 

[Laughter heard to rear of camp. Enter Tom Flynn looking 
very much exhausted,] 

Louis L. — Hello, where did you come from Tom, Did you drop 
from the clouds, or spring from the grouud. 

Tom F, — Xayther, Mr. Ludlow. Och, luck at me. Its mesel's the 
sorry looken Tom Flynn, an' if it was'nt that I've given up whiskey 
I'd be the dbryest one of me family since the flood. 

Louis L. — Hut tell me, where did you come from? 

Tom F. — Shure ye might better ax me where I did'nt come from. 
Fur three years I've been moven night and day, with my body 
growin shlendcr, an mc pay growin less, till I just axed mcsel, Tom 
Flynn, whats all this Tighten an fasten for? Share the Yankees wuz 
always me friers an tbey never hurt a chick or a chile of mine. 
Well yisterday Captain Thornton was killed. 

Louis L. — (in surprise) Thornton killed ! 

Tom F. — Yes, begorra, dead as a nail. I djnt know but some 
how that man bewitched me, though I knowed all the time he wasnt 
good. Well lasht night to the shame of mesel be it said I desarted, 
and got into the Yankee pickets. They took me to the Ginral and 
divil a one of me knowed which hid I was staudin on while he 
talked. When he wuz dun I sid Ginral might I make bould to ax 
yer name. Of coorsc ye may siz he, me name is Sherman. Sher- 
man says I, looken at an impty bottle would a glass near it on the 
table. If your name is Sherman thin God help Wade Hampton. 
Well he Bint me out an I axed the otlicer as a great favor to come 
down to see you. He laughed and Bint a man would watch me. 
Though its mes( Fs as inocent as a lamb from this day an' — 

Louis L. — Well, Tom. you need some better clothes. I will try to 
get you some. 

Tom F. — Very thine for ye, Mr. Ludlow, my outside lucks bad of 
coorse, but if ye could se my iuside it'ed frighten ye shure enough. 

L.oui* L. — I have no doubt such an exhibition would alarm me. 

Tom F. — Och my intestines are in a state of surprise. Not a bit 
nor a sup has crossed me lips, barren wather, since yistherday. 

Louis Tj. — Well, go back there, the boys will take care of you. 

Bob M. — That feller dont mean bad in good company. [Exit Tom 
Flynn] but I would'nt like to trust him in a room whar thar wuz 
only one drink of whiskey, an nobody looken at it. 



39 

Louis L. — Poor fellow if he gets back to Carlton I will help him. 
Our midnight march will soon begin. Pack up there men. 

[Assembly sounds, regiments form hurriedly but in order, men 
equipped like veterans, order given and troops move forward. 
Music — Marching through Georgia.'] 



;ne second. 

Steeet Scene in* Washington. 

Bob M. — [Enteb 1st R.] Wall, this is Washington. Dogon'd if 

I ever seed sich a place in my life. Wonder why in thunder they 
made sich a fuss 'bout not let tin the rebels take it. I swar, I think 
it 'ed a done the place right smart good to have the Johnnies run 
through it. Tht»y alters created n healthy sintament wherever they 
went. I'll say that for them, now that they are all gin up. [Neatly 
dressed officer passes.] Wall now, thars BUthin shiney. I'll bet :t 
critter that ar chap's a kernel or sutbin an never smelled powder 
durin the war. Pears like thars piles of sich varmin in this town. 
I wouldn't be that chap for all his shiney clothes. Thunder! I'd 
rather be Rob Mason, who wore a blouse an' carried a gun, and did 
his whole duty whin thar was guns a rattlin', than one of them 
peace Ginerals an officers, who felt big at a table with pens ahind 
thar ears, an little orderlies to run like rabbits at their order. [A 
highly dressed colored woman passes.] Thunder an lightnin, ain't 
that stunniu. Don't that ar jest take down everything I ever Beed. 
Wonder if them's her Sunday clothes. Wall, I reckoned on that 
after the 'mancipation. Why thar ain't a gal in East Tennessee kin 
begin to come nigh that ar Queen of Shebar. Wonder if that pus- 
son wants to hire a waiter? Wall, if she does, she would'nt hev 
me ; I can't wait wuth a cuss. Thar, I'll go down this street, Penn- 
sylvania avenue I think they calls it. Rut them chaps at the close 
stores I reckon thinks I'm naked, the way they goes for me. What 
powerful winnin ways they has. No, I won't go down that street. 
I'd have to buy some clothes if them little cusses run at me agin. 

Enter News Boy. — Star, sir. Inttelligise. Chronikal. Black yer 
boots sir. shine em up sir, army shine. Capting, 

Bob M. — See heah, yeh sopy little catamount ! ain't you got no 
mother to mend your pants? 

Xetcs Bog. — No sir. never had none. 

Bob M. — Poor little cuss. I don't want your papers nor boots 
blacked, lleah's a four levy bit. 

Kews Boy — [Running off.] Thank you. boss. 



40 

Bob M. — [Calling Jiini back.] See heab, get them pants o' youru 
reinforced. Heah's ten cents. Go down pass that clothing shop 
whar that feller Stan's watcbin' at the door, and bring me some 
chawin' terbacker. 

X'U-s J Jog. — All right, sir. [Kxit.] 

Bob M. — Poor little CU88, he'll be ruined if he grows up in this 
place with all them Congressmen an' sich. 

[E.NTKU Mr. Ludlow.] 

Mr. Ludlow. — Ah, my friend, I am glad to see the soldiers home 
again. Arc you one uf Sherman's m< 

Boh M. — Yes. sir. I helped tote Uncle Billy round heah. Our 
folks is across the river neah that thundcrin' long bridge. AYe'uns 
is waitin' to show off in — review, I think they calls it, (looking down 
tht street). What keeps that little varmint with the terbacker. 

Mr. L. — 1 have just come on from Ohio, to see the review. I 
have two sons who are with Sherman, and I hope to take them 
home with me. 

Bob M. — Thunder you say ! Tw bummin 1 with us down 

in Georgia ! Stranger, heah f 8 my ban'. Ver the fust pure white 
man I've seed in this town. What in thunder keeps that little cuss 
with the terbacker I 

Mr* L. — Pardon me, but did you send a boy lor tobacco? 

JJob M. — Y\ 8, a little thing what aint got no mother, come along 

a wanten to sill me papers and black my boots. A ragged little 

CUBS. 1 gave him tour bit- for himself, and ten cents to get me 

some terbacker. 'Reckon them clothes shop men. Becin' his fag- 

Iness, havi r him. They jest went for me. 

Mr. L — Those art- bad boys. I bar this one will not return with 

the tobacco. 

Bob JA — The thunder you say! Wall, it that little varmint don't 
come back, an' I see him again, his pants will need half-solin' WUSS 
than now. 

Mr. L. — Perhaps you knew my Bona in the service. One was 
named Louis, and the other Jackson Ludlow ? 

Hub M. — What, say that agin. You the father of Louis Ludlow ? 

Mr. L. — Louis, the color bearer, for whom 1 now have a commis- 
sion as captain, is my son. 

lioh M.— Hurrah ! * Your hand. Loth on 'em. Thar. By Thun- 
der I'm glad ter see you. My name's Bob Mason. Oh, Oincral 
Jackson, but I'm glad to meet you. 

Mr. L.—(llrartihj ) Xo more glad than I am to meet you. My 
Bona write about you every week, and I feel towards you like a 
brother. <iod bless you, Bob Mason. (Again shaking his hand.) 

Bob M.— Come, let us leave thi3 place and go to camp. We'll 



41 

take care of you. We'll show you th? colors, an' the color guard 
? 11 just put you through or I aint Bob Mason. 

Mr. L. — I was just going to camp, having received a special per- 
mit. Promise me you will go home with me when mustered out. 

Bob M. — Of course I will. Wait till this dogon'd review is over. 
(As the// walk off Bob looks back and srn/s.) I swear I'd give ten dol- 
lahe to lay my hand on that onery little cuss what has my lerbacker. 



S< BNE THIRD. 

i. IN THI VlLLAGI OF CARLTON. 
[Squire Williams and Farmer Johnson discovered.] 

Squire M. — Well, Mr. Johnson we have crashed down this rebel- 
lion at last. I knew we would do it. I did my level best. Susan 
Maria ain't a widder to be sure, but Jim Hansom tried hard to be 
killed. lie's still on crutch* 

Farmer J. — Never mind your own hold exploits now, Squire. We 
must talk of nobler men. You know the hoys are coming hack to- 
day. The train will soon be in. ami we have a welcome for them. 

[EXTKH Tom FlYXN AND VILLAGERS ] 

Tum F. — Good morrow, Misther Johns 

Farmer J, — Good morning, Tom. How *\o you like hard work.' 
Torn V. — Loike hard work ! Shurc its mcsel was raised to it. I 
never felt betther in my life. I never let a dhrop of whisky touch 
me lips. But on course to-day, wud Captain Ludlow cumin home, 
it would not be dacent not to dhrink his health. Barren that di\ il 
a one of me we'll ever become a shlave to the nasty stuff again. 

[Ektir Jerusha Johnson, Alici Gbat and Abbii Smith.] 

Jerusha J. — [To Farmer Johnson.] Well. Tin glad it's all over. 
Who'd a thought Mr. Goodman would have married a hospital 
nurse? Oh, this war has ruined so many good men. 

Abbiif S. — Miss Gurusha, I'm agoin to leave you after Captain 
Ludlow marries Miss Lucy. 

Jerusha J. — Why what will become of you? Where are you 
going? 

Abbiy S. — Xowheie's. Sam and me is goin to start a blacksmith 
shop together. 

Alice G. — There they are coming. Glory, the boys are back, and 
Jack will be all the handsomer with his one arm. 



42 

[Music. "Hail to the Chief." Troops march on with colors. 
Ksteii Mr. Ludlow and Lucy Johnson. The soldiers break ranks 
to exchange greetings for a few moments, then tne assembly sounds 
and the troops form with colors centre; Jack Johnson carrying 
them with bis remaining arm.] 

KouisL. — (Commands) colors to the front. Miss Johnson — four 
years ago I received from the ladies of this place, through you, a 
beautiful flag, the emblem of our united country. War was then 
upon us, and as 1 accepted the colors I promised that in our hands 
they should never receive a stain. Since then we have borne them 
on the march, in die battle, through the prison pens of the South, 
and with Sherman to the Sea, and north to the capitol of the land 
we helped to save. Here I return them battered, blood stained and 
laded, but brighter wfih glory than they were before. 

I /.—Captain Ludlow, in the name of the ladies of Carlton, I 
receive th indicative of the valor of the Color Guard, to 

whom we entrusted it. Henceforth it will be a sacred legacy, 
which he shall hand down to coming generations, to remind them 
oi the heroism that kept our land united and to warn them should 
ambition lead them to raise their bands against the flag. 

[While the ladies in wonder examine the Hag in Lucy's hand, the 
order ml Anns! Carry Anns! Order Arras! 

Stack Arms! Attention! Regiment free. Break ranks. March. 

j/,-. L.— (Shaking han ' 5 M&eon.) Let me welcome you, 

here Mr. Mason, and urge upon you to come work and live with us. 
Af. — I'm righl be beah, and will often come up to 

tli : but I would not live away from the mountains and rivers 
of Bast Tennessee. To whom is the Bky so blue, the air so clear, 
an' the hills so grand. Thai's whar is slecpin' all who had my 
hlood in thar rains, an' her 1 loved. I'll go back an' hang up my 
rille an' take to plowin' the valleys an' when I grows rich, you'ns 
must come an' see me an' stay all the time. 

/.,„//,• £. — Well, Bob, I'm glad it's all over. Now 1 am going to 
many ami settle down, and only talk of war when I meet an old 
comrade like you. 

Sam /,'.— I'm glad I didn't bring that crinoline home from Geor- 
gia. Abbey Bays Bhe'a got new ones. The gal's been preparin' for 
the weddin' for a long time. Captain, you've got to do it fust. 

Jack J.—(who ha* been talking to Alio- Gray.) See here, Louis, you 
remember those socks 1 got down in Tennessee, with a note in 
them ! 

Louie L. — (Smiling.) Yes. very well. 



43 

Jack J. — I thought at the time, that aunt Jerusha wrote that 
note, hoping it would fall into Mr. Goodman's hands, but it appears 
this child sent it. It has a better effect than if any one else had 
done it. 

Alice, G. — I wish I could have gone South with Lucy. 

Toner/. — Wall, Miss, I'm glad yen didn't. This chile had a hard 
job keerin' for one young lady. Don't know what had a gone dun 
if thar was two. 

Fanny G. — Jack, my boy, I'm more than glad t.; Bee you back. 
You have lost an arm. But }*ou are more of a man than ever. I 
am glad I had a boy to fight for the flag. 

Tom F. — Vis an if all the marriges takes place, I think there 
will, by me sowl there'll soon be plenty more boys in Carlton to 
fight for the flag. 

Lmiis L — Y( 's, my friends, I hope henceforth for peace and pros- 
perity in the free South and a united land. Bat should danger 
threaten the old flag again it will not want foi Guard to 

defend it. 

Music. Hail ( 
Tablkaux. Union, Fi 







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